glass wounds
by tatty ted
Summary: "Jesus Christ Mike, you could've warned me." - —Roisin/Mike.


**glass wounds**

"Do you want a lift back Mike?"

They had just left court and seen Michael Summerby found guilty of the murder of Emily Harrogate.

"No, I'm going the opposite way thanks."

He was lying, she knew he was because he couldn't face her. She didn't blame him though, she had acted like a complete bitch towards him especially when he needed her the most. There was a silent silence between them before she called his name. He stood still and she walked towards him.

"I'm sorry." She answered. Saying sorry was difficult, she never liked admitting she was in the wrong, "The things I said were.."

She just stared at him, he stared back and she replied, "I didn't mean to have a go at you."

He smiled. A small smile but it was geniune, "I know." He answered back, "Maybe some of the things you said were true."

He told her about the time his son wanted to play cricket but he didn't have the time. Emotion flooded through him and she put her hand on his arm before telling him, she'd take him home. He nodded and walked towards the car.

He got in the passenger side and she was about to get into the drivers side, when the Harrogate's car drove past. She sighed, opened the drivers side door and got into the car. As she closed the car door, she put the keys in the ignition and turned on the engine.

The journey was comfortable and silent. Neither of them attempted conversation, they didn't need too.

* * *

><p>She turned the engine off and turned to face Michael.<p>

She smiled and said they were here. He put his hand on the door handle and asked if she wanted to come in for a coffee. Not having much else to do, Roisin accepted and got out of the car. As she closed the door, she locked the car and followed Mike into his flat.

* * *

><p>She sat down on the edge of the sofa, hands cradled around a cup of coffee. Michael was sat next to her, a brandy bottle on the table and a brandy glass in his hands. Again, nothing was spoken between the pair, it was just comfortable silence.<p>

"I'm sorry." He whispered, "Especially saying you didn't—"

"Can we just forget it ever happened?" She asked as she took a sip of her coffee. He nodded, downed his drink and poured another one. He turned to her and asked if she was certain she didn't want one.

She declined saying she was driving and once the room was silent, he told her she could stay the night. She laughed and said she would rather spend the night in her own bed, after all they had to work together.

He seemed to accept it, for now.

* * *

><p>It was getting late and Roisin knew she had to leave, beauty sleep and all that.<p>

"I'd best be making a move." She said as she stood up. He was borderline typsy, had drank two bottles of brandy and a bottle of vodka. He stood up from the settee and began to sway slightly.

She put a hand on his arm to steady him, "You okay to walk?"

He nodded told her he was fine and went to walk towards the door. He didn't quite make it to the door before he bumped into the table, sending the empty glass bottles flying, crashing onto the floor.

She rolled her eyes, put a hand on him again and steered him out of the living room. She told him to go to bed and he grumbled a reply, didn't look like he was going to oblige and made his way to the bedroom. She returned to the living room to attempt to tidy up the mess.

As she bent down, she began to pick up the pieces of broken glass placing them delicately in the palm of her hand. She wasn't careful enough and a piece of glass embedded itself in the palm of her hand.

"Fuck." She muttered as it began to pour with blood. She walked into the kitchen, ran the cold tap and began to run her hand under it. Grabbing a tee-towel off the side, she pressed it against the wound and hoped it would stop bleeding.

"Roisin?"

She looked up, her eyes falling upon Mike. She told him, she thought he'd gone to bed but he said he hadn't, he was just in the process of getting changed. He walked towards her, still wobbly on his feet and gently took her hand in his.

"Always told you, you were clumsy." She smiled at his comment.

* * *

><p>"Be careful!" She screeched as he sat down on the sofa with her. Her hand was still bleeding and he was attempting to take the glass out.<p>

"Roisin." He told her, "I can't get it out."

"Your not trying hard enough." She answered.

"Everytime I touch it, you scream like a girl."

"I am a girl." She shot back with a smirk.

There was a silence and before she had chance to complain, he pulled the glass out of her palm.

"Jesus Christ Mike." She answered as she took a deep breath, "You could've warned me."

He smirked, opened the first aid box and took out a wound dressing and a bandage. As he placed pressure on the cut with the dressing, he wound a bandage around her hand and told her it looked like she was staying the night after all.

"I'll get a taxi." She answered.

"You've got no money." He replied with a smirk.

* * *

><p>It was only when Roisin was lying in his bed, that she wondered how Michael could have patched her up so well if he was drunk. Except, she had a feeling he wasn't drunk and it was all a plan to make her stay the night.<p>

"You did that on purpose didn't you?"

He didn't reply, turned on his side and stared at her. He smirked, not denying or confirming that it was all a plan.

But the devious sparkle in his eyes told her otherwise.

* * *

><p><strong>an**: if you like it enough to favourite, please leave a review.  
>set after <em>sins of the father part two. <em>& more Michael/Roisin fluff.


End file.
